


Bottom of the Barrel

by kolibris



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Obsession, Suicide reference, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolibris/pseuds/kolibris
Summary: There’s room for two at the end of Ryuji’s rope.





	Bottom of the Barrel

**Author's Note:**

> The ‘suicide reference’ tag is for a tiny mention of Shiho. Otherwise, enjoy!

“He transferred here because he killed his parents,” the girl a few seats behind him explains.

Ryuji has been in class for all of an hour, tops, and the transfer student is all anybody can fucking think about. 

Well, same goes for him. To say he’s even in class sounds like a lie, because his mind is miles away, everywhere but here. _It happened_ , he keeps telling himself. _I met the transfer student and we nearly died. I’m alive because of him_. It sounds so ridiculous that it must be a dream, or he’s finally had one of those mental shutdowns they keep mentioning on TV, but the side of Ryuji’s face still throbs with a dull pain that feels so real to him. Crazy people can’t make up shit like this.

And the new guy’s gotta know it’s true. Ryuji saw the fear on his face too, honest terror, open and raw when those suits beat them down, when Kamoshida had him by the throat, when _whatever_ that monster was—a _Persona_ —burst out of him and tore through everything else that stood in their way. But by then, a different look kept coming across his face, like a chained animal had finally been set free.

Those eyes, dark and wild, brightening the moment they stopped on Ryuji. Hard to put things like that out of his mind. 

“Don’t be stupid, how would he not be in jail right now?” Another girl starts whispering back. “But he definitely stabbed somebody.”

Ushimaru starts loudly slamming his chalk against the board. “Shut up back there! You’re in school and I’m in the middle of my lesson! Did you lose your brains that fast over your break?”

The girls jolt in their seats with an audible squeak and quickly throw their heads back down into their textbooks. That stops the gossiping for a good while, but the moment Ushimaru’s lecture starts winding down, the hushed voices come sprouting back up.

“Nevermind the transfer student, Mr. Ushimaru looked like he was gonna kill you.”

“I could kick his ass, totally! Let him try!” 

“He’s scary… I think I walked past him in the hallway and I didn’t even realize it!”

“Ma-chan’s in 2-D. Will she be okay?” Even Komaki too? “I told her to keep texting me updates.” 

Ryuji turns around. “What’s his name?”

“Akira Kurusu,” a few people pipe up at once before they realize who’s asking, because everyone in this classroom is tuned into this conversation whether they like it or not.

“Huh.” Ryuji goes back to staring at his desk. “Akira.” He rolls the word around in his mouth a little, lets it come out loose, and he likes how it sounds. Akira. Sits on his tongue real nice. 

“Don’t get any dumb ideas, Sakamoto,” someone snarks, just loud enough to make sure he hears it – which he does, then lets it roll off his back like all the rest of it. After what he’s seen today, tiny little shit like that can’t even begin to touch him.

Besides, this is the most excited Ryuji has been about a dumb idea in a long, long time.

***

The transfer student – Akira – bangs through the rooftop doors right when Ryuji is really entertaining the idea of running back down and dragging him up here himself.

“Hey,” he says, then “Sakamoto,” a beat later, like he got hung up on how to address him. Ryuji’s face eases up a little because good, who gives a fuck about being formal after nearly being murdered together? Ryuji doesn’t need anything special with his name. That distance has closed up already.

“Finally you made it,” Ryuji says. “Thought you weren’t gonna show.”

“There’s a lot going on today,” Akira says. Yeah, understatement.

Akira drops his bag on the table and takes a seat next to it. Now Ryuji has a chance to really check him out. Just looking at him brings the adrenaline rushing back. He seems kinda on edge too, like he can’t let go of the tension from before either, so it’s no wonder people must think he’s about to knife them in the hallway. And man, weird how literally no one today has mentioned that the transfer student is also hot as shit. That’s the first thing that goes around once someone transfers in. Maybe it’s harder to tell when he looks like this, some slouched-over nerd who barely got out of bed this morning, but it’s still obvious even to Ryuji and he’d like to think he’s a pretty good judge of someone being attractive. Nothing wrong about that.

He leans himself back in his chair. “So I hear you got a record. You probably heard people talkin’ shit about you all day, huh?”

Akira doesn’t say anything to that.

“Well, these assholes here really like to talk, so just let ‘em. You get into some trouble once and they ride your ass like crazy over it. That’s how they all are.” Ryuji thumbs his ear. “I bet they’d back off if you showed them everything you could do in that castle.” 

Akira looks away. “That was…”

“That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“I don’t think so,” Akira says. “And it wasn’t like it was just me, you were fighting your way out too. And so was that cat thing.” He looks back over. “We couldn’t just die in there.”

Sure, they scrapped their way out of that castle together, but Ryuji knows those Persona things were seriously pulling their weight compared to him. But when Akira puts it that way… he makes it sound like Ryuji was an equal force, like he and Akira were one and the same in there. Maybe they are. Problem kids with no friends, no options, no future.

But now, don’t they have each other?

“‘Course not. Not when Kamoshida…” His face twists up. “You saw how he was. Lettin’ him win is the last thing I’ll ever do. He’s a real piece of shit. Thinks he can do whatever he wants and screw anyone who gets in his way.” When Ryuji says that, Akira’s face looks like it darkens a bit too. “I don’t put up with that shit and neither should you.”

“I don’t put up with things like that,” Akira quietly says.

“Heh, good. We’re kinda the same, then.” 

Ryuji spins his wheels for something more to say to him. That should be it, a neat little bow to wrap up their fucked-up day, but he finds that he doesn’t want it to be over already. What else is there for him to say here, though? Instead, he decides to try his luck. With a grin, Ryuji throws his elbow out at Akira. “Well, I ain’t gonna keep you. But I’m gonna say hi if I see you, so you better do the same, alright? I’m Ryuji Sakamoto.” He pushes it a little farther. “See you around, Akira.” 

He catches how Akira’s eyes glint at his name, at the little smile that forms right back.

“See you, Ryuji.”

***

There’s a lot of things to like about Akira.

For starters, he doesn’t run away when Ryuji surprises him at the school gate to start his investigation into the castle. He’s actually pretty easy-going, falling in step behind him without a complaint as they bumble through the alleyways over and over again just looking for the damn place. Even having a monster cat hanging all over him doesn’t phase him. Well, he does look a little more fearless than compared to yesterday.

It could be that outfit. Something to do with rebellion or strength or whatever; Ryuji wasn’t really paying attention at the time. He was more focused on the streamlined figure Akira cut in it, black long legs bleeding into black heeled boots, eyes clear and piercing behind his mask. He knows Ryuji keeps watching him and after the first few times he catches him, his lips just curve up into a small, interested smile. It should be enough to teach Ryuji a lesson to keep his eyes to himself, but it doesn’t.

The best part about him, though, is what they have going together now. It’s all Akira knows. There’s none of the usual bullshit to get in their way, things Ryuji can’t control and stopped trying to; just the two of them taking matters into their own hands instead. 

So why the hell does Kamoshida have to ruin this for him, too?

“Liar!” Ryuji screams, but it’s too late – the idea’s been put out there, Akira’s heard it, and now who knows what he’s thinking about him, wondering if Ryuji is a _traitor_ , the most untrustworthy fuck-up he’s had the bad luck to come across first thing at school.

“Sakamoto, this again?” Even Kamoshida’s voice drips with the same shit-eating arrogance as his face. “Can’t be bothered to let your friends know about the real you? History really does repeat itself.”

“Shut up! It’s not true!” The suits edge closer to him and Morgana steps in front, followed by Akira, who gives Ryuji a quick look over his shoulder before Arsene bursts bright above him. Even here, like this, Akira doesn’t leave him behind.

It’s all Ryuji can do to join him, then, burning white-hot and furious, crumpling armor like paper in Captain Kidd’s hands when they’ve been beaten down. Kamoshida shrieks and howls like a bitch but he backs away when Ryuji advances on him too, scampering off behind more of his guards. Not a problem; he’s got enough for everyone here.

With a tired smile, Ryuji kicks away the last empty helmet and throws down his pipe. “How about that shit, huh?”

“Another awakening,” Morgana gasps.

“You too?” Awe dawns on Akira’s face. “We really are equals,” he says, and Ryuji suddenly feels everything inside him squeeze tight.

It’s just a throwaway thing to say out of surprise – doesn’t really mean anything – but the look on Akira’s face and each sound of _we really are equals_ sticks to Ryuji for the rest of the day. It’s probably not really true, because Akira can do things with Personas that Morgana’s never seen before, but Akira looks like he believes it and Ryuji lets himself believe it too, because standing tall next to Akira made him feel good and powerful and safe. The feeling still buzzes through him long after he’s gotten home, like there’s an itchy undercurrent to his skin that he can’t scratch.

He’s already hard when he gives in and reaches into his pants.

They’re roughly shoved down when they get in the way of his hand, jerking himself off too eager and too fast, and he mashes his face into his futon while the half-formed thoughts of dark eyes and sly smiles he’s had since the day before finally catch up to him. 

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Ryuji chokes out, mouth gone all cottony, and he bites at his free hand to shut himself up besides the world’s thinnest apartment wall. Nothing can stop him now, though, not when he’s so worked up and turned on that he could crawl right out of his skin. 

_You too?_

When he catches his breath, he stares down at his hand, streaked with the come that Akira brought out of him.

Shit.

***

“If we take his Treasure... there’s a chance Kamoshida could die,” Morgana had said.

The first thing that came to Ryuji’s mind was Suzui, crumpled on the ground like a kid had dropped their toy. “Good.”

It’s what’s keeping him going forward. Every day after school, he and Akira and Ann file into the alleyway together and let Morgana lead them back out deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle. Every day it’s one step closer to catching Kamoshida and beating his face in, to basking in the satisfaction of breaking him like he broke everybody else. And every day is still too far away. 

He takes his frustrations out on the Shadows, swinging his pipe around until his shoulders pull and his chest aches and the collar of his suit is drenched with sweat. He almost asks for a break, but it’s hard to stop when Ann gets one caught nice in her whip and highfives him into action. Akira is there behind him too, swiping at another Shadow that skitters too close. As it turns out, he’s gotten real handy with a knife after all. Akira moves quick with it, decisive with every strike, and the taut muscle of his neck peeks out from his collar whenever he lands a hit. 

Ryuji feels so hot and jittery under his suit. He could probably chafe his dick from how much he’s been beating off lately but he’s already made up his mind; he’s gonna do it as soon as he gets home.

Akira catches his eye as he’s thinking about it and it makes him burn worse, yet he can’t turn away like he knows he’s supposed to. Maybe there’s something about the expression Ryuji has on but Akira is looking at him like he’s… intrigued, or maybe concerned, and Ryuji faintly wonders if Akira can see everything that’s been going on inside of his head.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind.

But he’s anxious to leave already and they’re finally, finally heading back to the safe room after who the hell knows how long. It’s just their luck that Akira misses the guard around the last corner, cracking him across the head with its sword.

“Joker!” Morgana hollers, but Akira is already stumbling back upright and grabbing for his knife as the Shadows surround them. Ryuji slams his back against Akira’s, and then Ann and Morgana flank them on their sides, making a tight circle, them against the monsters. He reaches back and grasps onto the first part of Akira he can find to touch – his thigh, warm and solid even through his clothes.

“Gotta make it through this one, Joker!” he shouts over the roar of his blood in his ears, and Akira shoves backwards into him in response.

The fight’s over quick – if Ryuji could even call it one, because four pissed-off and desperate people can make short work out of just about anything. Ryuji runs over to Akira and leans over him, knocking their heads together before he can really think better of it, and Akira sighs and laughs. There’s a trickle of blood crawling down from a cut on Akira’s forehead and Ryuji messily rubs it away with his fist. It’s already beading back up when he pulls his hand away.

“God, are you okay?” Ann asks when she helps him lean against her.

“Yeah,” Akira says. He’s still got his eyes on Ryuji. Ryuji can’t help but look right back at him.

Morgana calls up a Dia, but the best that comes out of his paws is a wispy fizzle. “Damnit! I’m dry.”

“Ugh, me too!”

“We’ve been here too long today.” Morgana grimaces. “Sorry. We should’ve pulled out way earlier.”

Akira shakes his head. “It’s okay, I’m alright, just… safe room? Please?”

When they get there, they try and fail to convince Akira to sit his ass down on the couch. “My legs are so tired I might not get back up,” he says, and leans himself against the wall instead. Easy enough for Ryuji to do the same next to him.

“Oh! Of course!” Morgana finally chirps after a minute of brainstorming. “My emergency kit! I hid some extra supplies for myself when I first got here just for something like this. Let me go get it. No, don’t give me that look, I’m not taking any chances with you, Joker. You stay put until I get back!”

“Huh?” Ryuji balks. “Uh, Mona—”

“Where are you—”

But Morgana is already zipping out the door, and the rest of them pass frantic glances back and forth at each other. “Ah, he’s really going?! Someone should go with him!” Ann says. Then she books it to the door like she already decided to nominate herself for the job, and Ryuji can hear her hurried “Wait, Mona!” as she runs out too. 

“I’ll stay here with you,” Ryuji says, and shit, if that thought doesn’t wind him up even more.

“Thanks.”

Akira looks like shit now. He’s scraped-up, bloody and dirty and tired, but he’s still got this fire to his eyes like he’s nowhere close to done and everything about the way he looks is burning Ryuji up too, like his nerves just won’t stop crackling. A pretty weird reaction, but he’s been going around half-hard for the better part of today so Akira would get the headspace he’s in right now. Maybe he should’ve left with Ann and Morgana, because if he stays here like this then he really might just…

“Everything okay with you?” Akira is staring at him again. “You’re really... distracting, today.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryuji shifts his leg a little as his cock stiffens up against it. “Why’s that?”

“Because…” He could swear Akira looks down right at it as his eyes cut away, but he doesn’t lift his face back up for a second glance.

“Why?” Ryuji asks again, because Akira’s gone quiet, because he really needs to finish his thought, because Ryuji really wants to know. He steps right into Akira’s space, close enough to feel the heat still radiating off of him, and cranes his head in. “Akira—” he starts, before Akira whirls him against the wall, arms slamming close on either side of his head, “—ah, _shit_ —”

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” Akira says, real quietly, but he’s so close it sounds like the loudest fucking words in existence. What even is this thing that Ryuji’s doing? The same exact shit that Akira is doing, looking dark and aroused, eyeing Ryuji low under his lashes like he’s daring him to pull his head back, bite at his neck, mess up his face with his come? So Ryuji laughs, and then he cants forward and kisses Akira hard on the lips, bringing his hands to his face so he can’t pull away.

Akira groans into it and his hands find their way to Ryuji’s head too, clutching onto the back of his skull, and Ryuji’s nerves sing as Akira forces his tongue inside and tastes his mouth. It’s all salt and sweat between them as they kiss and it tastes _good_ , because underneath there’s something undeniably _Akira_ , dangerous with its potency. 

“Akira,” Ryuji moans – no code names, fuck code names, it’s Akira under his mouth – and Akira shudders hard at the sound of it. Ryuji pulls his lips away to latch onto his neck and Akira’s pulse races under his tongue.

“I’ve wanted to do this since…” Akira gulps down his breath when Ryuji sucks right under his ear. “That day you got your Persona, you kept looking at me and I thought maybe you were…”

What he is, what he isn’t, doesn’t matter. What matters is Ryuji knows he wants this too; maybe since the rooftop, since the prison cell, since the overhang in the rain. Akira has been on his mind ever since they met.

“So let’s do it already,” Ryuji says. 

They stumble backwards until they hit the table, too focused on kissing each other to stop their legs from gracelessly catching together, and then Akira hefts Ryuji backwards onto it with a satisfying slam. He climbs on top too and the table creaks with their weight, but it’ll just have to hold because Akira is splaying himself out over Ryuji and he won’t move, even if the whole damn thing collapses on them. With Akira leaned forward like this, right between Ryuji’s legs, their erections press tight together with every movement. 

Ryuji’s not sure who starts moving first, only that them rutting together makes him feel like he’s going to explode. “Are they gonna be back soon?”’ Akira whispers.

“Who knows? Who cares?” Ryuji reaches under Akira’s coat and grabs onto his hips experimentally. The noise Akira makes from that means it was worth it. “Just don’t— _hah_ —yeah, like that.”

“If we could, I’d just—” Akira stops moving to sag himself lower to the table, and Ryuji realizes he’s lined the bulge of his cock up to press into his ass, “—I really want to—” and then Akira snaps his hips forward a couple times, fucking against him as if his dick could’ve really gone anywhere – and Ryuji’s not sure whether he wants it to, but feeling Akira thrust against him the same way he’s wanted to do to him gets him hot, gets his cock tapping in his pants. He pulls Akira back up to kiss him again and Akira keeps going, rubbing hard against Ryuji until he bucks back into the rhythm.

“Akira,” he breathes into the side of Akira’s face. “We’re gonna kill Kamoshida.”

Akira doesn’t slow down at all. “ _Yeah_ , yeah—”

“Let’s take him down together—let’s fucking kill him—ahh, okay?”

“Yeah, Ryuji, we’ll do it, we’ll—”

Ryuji turns his head so he can howl low as he comes, too pent-up from earlier before to last any longer than he already has. Akira clutches him closer and loses himself, thrusting again and again until he finally stills and cries out too. Pleased, hazy, Ryuji reaches up and thumbs at Akira’s lips, then kisses him slow. He’s said all he’s wanted to say. They’re apart again by the time Ann and Morgana rejoin them, still flushed and sweaty with totally out-of-place good moods.

“You look _terrible_ ,” Ann says, and Akira just smiles.

***

Kamoshida splatters into dark smoke. The knife stuck into his chest rings out when it hits the floor. It lies there, alone, until Akira bends over and picks it back up with little fanfare.

“Good riddance,” Ann spits.

“We’ve cleansed Kamoshida’s heart,” Morgana says, absent-mindedly petting his crown, the only remnant left. “But without a Shadow… who knows what will happen to the real one. There’s no turning back now.” 

“I know,” Akira says.

There’s a thundering noise – Ryuji thinks it’s still his head at first, pounding with blood, with excitement, looking at Akira flip away his knife – and then chunks of the ceiling shower down on top of them, the Palace breaking apart at unnatural speed. They’ve accomplished what they came here to do. It’s time to go.

Ryuji grabs Akira by the hand and gets ready to run, together.


End file.
